Category Archives: Grieving

The Busy Day

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Hospital rooms are busy places, even when outside visitors are restricted.

Today Dr. Oliver strolled in to check on his patient’s welfare. He is the radiation/lung cancer expert and said he was pleased with Nelson’s progress. He was also completely enamored with little Will, who has become a celebrity on the oncology floor.

Later, a young woman named Sydney arrived in Nelson’s room with a guitar slung over her shoulder. “I’m from palliative care,” she said, “and I thought I’d bring you some music today—if you’d like that.

“Music, she explained, “can be very soothing—any kind you like.”

Nelson suggested she sing a Willie Nelson song in honor of baby Will(ie) Nelson Nyman. She said she was a fan of “old school country” and sung through Willie’s “Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain.” Her voice was clear and beautiful. Before she left, she sang a few more, including “Amazing Grace.”

Another interesting visitor was a hospital chaplain, Alex, who sat with Nelson long enough to make a request. “Would you be willing to think about a couple of questions I’d like to ask? Not to answer them now, but just to think about them.” Of course Nelson said yes.

“If God added ten years to your life, how would you use them to get closer to him?” And, “If you could ask God to do one thing for you now, what would it be?” He quickly added, “Most people ask for their cancer to be removed. But what one thing after that?”

These are good questions for anyone to ponder, but especially for someone with cancer who has a young wife and a baby to raise. Nelson tapped the questions into his phone to do as Alex suggested, to think about them later.

Before he left, Alex reminded Nelson that his cancer experience won’t be wasted, that good things will come from it.

Later, Nelson mentioned to us that fear has been hovering over him since the beginning of this ordeal—the fear of not being able to breathe.

When nurse Jean visited, ostensibly to play with Will, she reminded him that such a scenario is highly unlikely, since the fluid in his lungs is being drained daily. More than likely it isn’t breathing that would be the trouble but pain from somewhere else that’s running away with his emotions. She challenged him to think about that before giving in to panic.

With today’s many visitors we saw that Nelson is being prepared to leave the hospital, both physically and emotionally, probably tomorrow. He has to be weaned off the little black button and its pain relief before he can go—leaving it up to pills after that.

There was so much activity in his room today that he texted us in the afternoon, asking us to cancel our planned evening visit. “I’m really tired,” he said. And so of course we didn’t go.

“I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.” (Jer. 31:25)

Just Following Along

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Today begins a new week, one in which the results of the biopsy will come in. They took nine bits out of a cancerous lymph node two weeks ago, though it seems like two months ago.

But today brought word of the first analyses, and what we heard was good news. Though they are still looking for certain mutations that will swing the door open to the new, effective immunology treatments, they did have one piece of good news. The numbers showed that Nelson’s immune system is extra-strong for his age, which should help him during immunology treatments—should he qualify for them.

Meanwhile, they told us he’ll probably start chemotherapy tomorrow, even before all the biopsy results are in, possibly alongside immunology. If they give him the first blast before he leaves the hospital tomorrow, it will be a helpful kick-start (the nurse’s words) to his long-term treatment.

One new problem is that Nelson’s veins are flattening. Drawing blood morning and evening is getting more and more difficult. The staff has to dig for it, and Nelson has bandage wraps around multiple places in both arms. He’s a good patient and endures without complaint, but it’s hard to watch them try and try.

Today they wheeled Nelson from his room multiple times for more tests that they can compare to last week’s information. Sadly, we heard the words “fast growing” today, an invitation to lose heart. But God wants us always to be on a blessing-watch, and today he gave us a special one.

Though no young children are ever allowed on the oncology floor, we asked Nelson’s nurse if maybe just once we might bring Will up to see Nelson—only briefly, and in the lounge at the end of the hall, not in his room.

The nurses are a fantastic crew, and this one went to work on it immediately. Today as Ann Sophie, Will, and I entered the hospital, we were stopped by the doorkeepers like everyone else. Ann Sophie mentioned that the baby should be allowed in today, expecting opposition. But the woman at the desk brought up Nelson’s patient-page and quickly said, “Yes. I see that here. Go right up.”

We skipped the lounge and went directly to Nelson’s room. No one stopped us. Will was wearing his onesie that said DAD’S BEST BUDDY and charmed all the nurses and other visitors along the way. His daddy was very glad to see him and vice versa. And thankfully Will was an angel throughout the hour we were there.

 

 

Another blessing was that the staff told us they’d gotten permission for Will to be on the cancer floor any time we wanted to bring him…a standing order of sorts.

And one more good thing was that the staff had finally gotten ahead of Nelson’s pain. When we came, he was relaxed and content, a big gift to him—and to us. He was sleepy, since they had literally doubled his pain meds, but that was OK, too.

And so we forge ahead, pleading with God for more years with Nelson, and doing our best to follow his lead.

“Your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way. Walk in it’.” (Isaiah 30:21)

Best and Worst

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It’s been a year of non-blogging for me, since other things have taken precedence. Although much of 2020 offered up negatives, our family can also report a big 2020-positive. My 15th grandchild, Elias, was born.

This little guy arrived before his due date—well before. At 7 weeks premature, he was expected to need lots of assistance from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, but he surprised us all. Though he weighed only 4 pounds 3 ounces, he was in great condition and hung around the hospital for just 18 days.

The nurses were impressed with his fast progress, marveling that he never even needed oxygen. Now, three months later, his development is right on schedule, evidenced by his crinkly-eye smiles and lots of direct eye contact.

His diligent parents, Louisa and Teddy, are delighting in this wondrous 2020-positive.

 

 

 

No year, however, is without its negatives, and 2020 delivered a big one to our family. My brother Tom and his wife Leslie were both killed in their own home by an intruder, a shock from which all of us are still trying to recover. The mystery remains unsolved, and our hearts are broken.

On Friday, a new calendar year begins—day #1, week #1, month #1. None of us knows what will happen on the 364 days that will follow, though we’ll probably try to guess. But as my mother used to say, “God only knows, and he won’t tell.”

So how can we move into the new year with confidence when so much is uncertain? There’s only one way—to believe that our omniscient God will tell us everything we need to know, when we need to know it. And all of it, what we’re surmising and what actually occurs, will be coupled with his promise that he’s got the whole world in his hands. That means we as his children have nothing to fear.

As hard as it is for us not to know what’s ahead, we should remember that in every year, there will be negatives but also positives. Our best bet, then, is to simply trust God, leaning on his power and wisdom instead of our own.

“Do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.” (Hebrews 10:35-36)